


Behest

by AlayneBaelish



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Angst, Bittersweet, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Cock Warming, F/M, Fluff, Forgiveness, Friends for years, Horror, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Prompt Fic, Reading Together, Road Trips, Smut, Thunderstorms, White Walker Petyr Baelish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24718489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlayneBaelish/pseuds/AlayneBaelish
Summary: Prompts/requests/and asks
Relationships: Petyr Baelish/Alayne Stone, Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark
Comments: 44
Kudos: 57





	1. road trip

**Author's Note:**

> This first one is for @kaylas-artistry, she asked for; "I have something to tell you" & "go on a road trip together" 
> 
> ('pub squash' is a brand of soft drink found in Australia)

"This heat is killing me!" Sansa complained from the passenger seat.

"It's not that bad," Petyr thought as he kept his eyes on the road.

"It is!" Sansa sounded upset as she checked the dial of the temperature.

"Good job we've got air conditioning then," Petyr chuckled.

"Did we pack enough snacks?" Sansa reached for one of the bags that were on the backseat.

"You know we did," Petyr replied as he turned onto the right highway.

"Where are the drinks?" Sansa suddenly blurted out.

Petyr almost jumped out of his skin but managed to get control of the wheel again, "In the esky." _'Where we left them,'_ Petyr thought to himself and was smart enough not to say aloud.

"Great!" Sansa unbuckled her seatbelt and leant over the middle to retrieve a can.

"Sansa, take it easy!" Petyr yelled, he was shocked at Sansa's behaviour but not at the view of her derrière spilling out of her small cut-off shorts that was now right beside his head.

"You want one?" Sansa asked him over her shoulder.

Petyr gave her a playful smack to one of her cheeks, and he chuckled at Sansa's shocked squeal, "No."

Sansa shuffled back into her seat and re-buckled herself in, popping open her can of pub squash.

Petyr enjoyed the silence for a time as Sansa took in the passing scenery as she leisurely took sips of her lemon soft drink before she dosed off.

"Petyr, stop the car." Sansa said suddenly after she woke from her nap.

"Why, what's wrong?" Petyr still had his eyes on the road.

"I need to check our bags," Sansa provided unhelpfully.

"Why?" Petyr asked again, he wasn't going to stop. He wanted to make good time, and get to their next destination before dinner, where he had prearranged a special evening for them.

"I think I left something back at the hotel," Sansa sounded worried, and their suitcases were in the boot, far from reach.

"We didn't forget anything," Petyr tried to sound reassuring.

"I think we have," Sansa said shrilly.

"Sansa, I double and triple checked everything at your quest before we left, I know we didn't leave anything behind," Petyr had done as he had said, he had checked over their hotel room and checked their rental car to make sure nothing was missed, yet all that effort was for naught as Sansa was working herself into quite a state.

"Stop the car," Sansa raised her voice.

"I'm not stopping, I want to make the falls before dark," Petyr pursed his lips in annoyance.

"Stop!" Sansa shouted.

"No," Petyr refused to raise his voice.

"Stop!" Sansa shouted even louder.

"Fine!" Petyr finally yelled and veered the car off onto a patch of dirt on the side of the road, and slammed on the brakes suddenly causing Sansa to cry out in shock and clutch at the hand rest fearfully.

Once the car wasn't in motion Sansa rushed out and slammed her door as hard as she could, and stood there by a barbwire fence with a few cows chewing grass on the other side.

Petyr saw Sansa was doubled over clutching at her knees as she tried to slow her panicked breaths, making him feel bad over how he had handled himself just now.

His hand rubbed soothing circles over her back, "I'm sorry, Petyr." Sansa turned and embraced him.

Petyr held her close, "So am I."

They stood there for awhile, and ignored the few cars that honked at them as they whizzed past them at high speeds. "Ready to head back?" Petyr asked, as one of his hands was threaded through her red locks.

Sansa nodded against him, "Just look for a gas station, okay?" She refused to go behind a tree or behind some bushes.

It was dark out by the time they arrived at their next destination, they were both cranky because they had missed their check-in time at the hotel, and wouldn't take them even though they had made reservations. The room had already been given away. Which forced them to walk across the main street to a small pub so they could have a meal at least.

The man working the bar saw their rental parked out front and provided them with a kind offer, "We've got a few rooms available upstairs, if you folks are looking for a place to stay tonight."

Petyr pursed his lips as he busily scanned over the subpar drinks they had on the menu. Which left Sansa the only one to reply, "Thank you, yes we'll take it. You have a room with a double we can take?" She asked politely.

The man tried to hide his surprise at them wanting only one room, but he made an effort not to say anything about it, "Sure, and we can even have your meals brought up to you, if you'd prefer."

"We'd love that," Sansa sounded relieved.

"Follow me," the man came from behind the counter and showed them up the stairs, which felt uneven, and the rest of the place wasn't much better.

The whole building was in a state of disrepair, and the man opened the last door down at the very end of the hall. "Here's your key card," he handed it over to Sansa, Petyr had already gone inside to flush out the room. "Breakfast is six to nine, and just be sure to pay your bill before eleven."

"Thank you," Sansa said again, and closed the door to see Petyr looking angry as he opened and closed doors, and he shook his head disgusted as he saw the state of the bathroom.

The only other knock was when their food arrived a few minutes later, but there wasn't enough space in their room to fit even a table so they were forced to eat their food by sitting on the bed as they watched the tiny tv screen, switched over to the news that was sat on a massive dresser before them.

When the lady came to retrieve their dishes Sansa asked for a bottle of wine to be brought up. Petyr hadn't said a word to her since they had gotten here, and the first chance he got he rushed to have a shower.

She knew everything hadn't gone according to plan, and her panic attack hadn't helped things either so she was trying to make it up to him. Sansa hid the bottle and glasses so it could a surprise, and she rushed in a shower of her own before changing into a new silk blue negligee, that she had been saving for a special occasion.

Petyr had turned off all the lights except the lamp opposite him, so Sansa could still make her way to bed. He was flicking through the channels and had found the wine she was meant to be saving for the both of them, he didn't so much as bother with a reaction as Sansa posed for him.

Petyr made a face at the wine and discarded the glass and turned the tv off with a huff. He tossed the remote away and rolled over, "You coming to bed?"

Sansa slid in on her side, and sat there disappointed. Usually a good bottle of wine and some sex always boosted Petyr's foul moods, but he refused to cooperate this time.

Sansa moved in to spoon him, her hand automatically reaching for his scar on his chest that she loved to caress, and she kissed his cheek before settling behind him.

Petyr reached for her other hand, and tried to hide his sounds of disappointment but Sansa still heard them all the same. "We can still see the waterfall tomorrow," Sansa was the one now trying to sound reassuring.

"That's not what's bothering me," Petyr finally spoke to her.

Sansa gave him an awkward hug in their position, "Then what is it?"

"Tonight was meant to be special," Petyr told her, but he didn't tell her he had planned to propose to her over dinner as they watched the waterfall light up in multicolours.

"How can I make this better?"

"You can't," Petyr closed his eyes but rest refused him, "Just go to sleep."

Sansa tried to sleep, she even closed her eyes but the mattress was too lumpy and the sheets irritated her skin. She tossed and turned for what felt like hours but nothing worked and she when she gave up on sleep she was laying on her back, but she felt exhausted to get up.

Even though it was dark in the room Sansa turned and could still make out Petyr looking just as awake and irritated as her.

"Fuck it!" Petyr exclaimed, and rolled over on top of Sansa, both of them reaching at the same time for his boxers, to push them down his thighs.

They were both panting, still trying to catch their breath from their recent pleasurable excursions. Sansa was resting against him, using Petyr's chest as a pillow.

"Sansa, I have something to tell you." He sounded so serious, like he was about to reveal something important.

Sansa's heart skipped a beat as she hoped this was the moment he was finally going to ask her to marry him, "Yes, Petyr?"

"I never want to go on another road trip with you ever again," Petyr said deadpanned.

Sansa laughed with him, but her laugh sounded flat even to her own ears, her hopes were as shattered as her heart.

"Next time we fly everywhere," Petyr went on, oblivious to Sansa's sadness.

Sansa laughed louder to try and drown out her disappointment but it didn't work as Petyr held her face, his expression was unrecognisable as he looked into her eyes, "Sansa, you crazy woman, will you marry me?"

Sansa was completely astounded, and Petyr wasn't oblivious.


	2. cock warming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for, MrWar1 who requested: "cock warming" 
> 
> This chapter is book! canon divergence

The rioting in King's landing scares her, their king, Joffrey ignores the peoples hunger, their desperation and the grieving mother who ran out and stopped the royal brigade ... was horrific.

Arms tug at Sansa from all directions and they pull Sansa from her horse, her screams go unheard among the loud crowds. She thrashes and tries to fight them off as best she can, but she was never a born fighter and she is easily overcome.

Someone smacks Sansa hard across the face leaving her dizzy and disoriented, neutralising her. She is hoisted over someone's shoulder and a sack is shoved over her face.

Sansa knows no one is coming to rescue her, and she cries into the scratchy sack that smells like rotting fish, that is beginning to make her feel lightheaded with the lack of oxygen it provides.

When next Sansa comes to, she is surrounded by girls of all ages and all of them look just as scared and frightened as she feels. They all sit and huddle together in the small chamber, and one girl in particular had been hovering over her to make sure she was well when she awoke.

Sansa groans as she tries to sit up, "Where am I?" But they are all too afraid to answer her.

Sansa's face feels sore from where she was hit, and she hisses in pain as she attempts to feel for cuts and bruises. It doesn't take her long to figure out they are on a ship, shoved in together like live cargo.

Men come in stripping them all of their clothes to the sounds of their screams, they leave, leaving them all cold and frightened and only left in their shifts and under garments.

Sansa looses track of how many days and nights pass, she's only aware of when more girls enter and whenever someone remembers to chuck food down to them from the trapped-barred door above their heads. If they get thirsty, they pray for rain.

When the door bursts open all the girls begin screaming when big burly men enter. Some of the older looking girls scurry over to cover Sansa and a few of the younger prettier looking ones from the men's view. Sansa covers her mouth so she won't scream, she feels hot and feverish from where she's crushed under the weight from the girls trying to protect her.

Some of the other girls aren't so lucky, some are taken from the room and a few others get raped there and then, and when it's all over the room is as silent as the grave. And for the rest of the journey no one tries talking, they all just sit there resigned waiting for the inevitable.

Sansa falls in line walking and following behind the girl in front of her (she never knew her name, Sansa didn't know any of their names.) They walk off the ship once it's finally docked in the dead of night, Sansa doesn't look up, even though there's a part of her that's happy to not be on that ship any longer, but she now faces a new fear, a fear of what else is waiting for her.

They walk for a long time, for possibly miles until they reach their destination. Nothing looks familiar and neither does the city, most of them don't even know where they are either.

Sansa passes through a side door down a dirty alley, and enters into a building where the chambers are decorated fancifully.

Well dressed men are all seated against one wall, happily chatting amongst themselves, their eyes light up when they see them, like they have been waiting just for them.

Sansa gets nervous as she sees the first lot of girls getting presented before them, and the well dressed men, some Lords, begin their biddings. Some of the girls begin to openly cry, one man even gets up from his chair so he can do an inspection. He walks slowly, his eyes examining them closely, and individually. When Sansa feels a hand grope a breast, she lowers her teary eyes to the floor and hopes this humiliation is over quickly.

A small man standing in a far corner, shadowed by the hanging tapestries bellows, "200 gold dragons for the lot of them."

Many of the seated men groan in protest as they know they've just been out bided by one of the most prosperous whoremongers in Westeros. "I'll happily give you gentlemen first try at them. For a discount of course." He finished up, which appeased some of them.

It's hours before all the men leave, while the newly bought girls stand waiting for their next instructions. Sansa is too upset and was silently crying to pay much attention to the man who had just bought her.

He's yelling out instructions to those who have been in his employ longer. Someone stands by Sansa and before she has a chance to see their face she hears it, that familiar voice, "No, I will examine them."

"Men pay a hefty price for untouched maidens, but you sweet thing are no maid." Littefinger pointed to the door to his right, "Through there and get yourself cleaned up." He turned facing all the shivering girls, "I'm trusting the honour system, those whom have been spoiled, follow Tassa here."

Tassa stepped forward and slowly all the for mentioned girls followed through into the next room leaving behind just a handful. The remaining girls lined up in a row, with their heads bowed, Sansa among them.

"We'll need to check them," Another man said.

"Yes," Littlefinger replied offhandedly, but he was the one to approach and lifted the girls shift up causing her to cry out in dismay as his hand reached under her small clothes.

Sansa clenches her eyes closed imagining that if her eyes remained closed than none of this would be real. Sansa's the last in line and he's before her, waiting patiently for her to open her eyes, Lord Baelish is wiping his hand on some cloth.

She doesn't dare say his name, she's too afraid to even move but Sansa quickly cry's out in dismay when he pulls up her shift. Littefinger's hand cups her mound, and Sansa squeaks as he moves his palm against her, moving back and forth slowly. Sansa's whole body trembles and her big widened eyes look right into Petyr's darkened stare.

A couple of fingers move aside her small clothes and feel around her labia and her puckered entrance, both of them know she was untouched... until now.

For appearances sake, he asks for two of his new purchases to follow him, Sansa being one of them. They make their way deeper through the brothel, and Sansa tries to ignore some of the happenings going on around her. He eventually brings them into his personal chambers, his office. "Go wash up through there," Littefinger tells the mousy blonde. She curtsies to him and rushes from the room as fast as is deemed appropriate.

Now that they are alone Sansa almost cry's tears of joy, just to see someone she knows. "Lor--"

Lord Baelish gives a slight move of his head, but his eyes give her the biggest warning of all, to not say his proper title. Sansa holds her tongue and hopes and prays he will help her. "L-Littlefinger?" Sansa stammers.

He comes to her, crowding into her personal space like he's done in the past, Lord Baelish is practically whispering to her, "For now, my lady." He brings her over to his desk, offering her a drink which she readily accepts. "Are you hurt, my lady?"

Sansa's still gulping down the wine like it's water so she just shakes her head to let him know physically all is fine. "Good."

"Where are we?" Sansa still didn't know.

"We're in one of my brothels in Highgarden." Littefinger told her.

Sansa looked shocked to discover that, she thought she was further away from Westeros. "Will you help me?" Sansa asks once she finishes the cup.

She never gives him a chance to reply, for she suddenly grasps at his coat clenching it within her fists as her pleas get more desperate, "Please Lord Baelish, will you help me get out of this place? _Please?_ ... I just want to go home."

His hands hold up her face to stop her tears from drenching his coat, "How do you propose I do that, when I've just bought a whore to trade? Not a known lady of the courts."

"I don---" Sansa stumbled over her reply, she didn't know what he was asking of her, but after she gave his words some thought she gave him another. "A proposal. Me. I'll be your wife."

"What about your betrothal to our precious king?" Petyr reminds her.

Anyone was better than her king, and Sansa remembers the rumours that spread throughout court of how Petyr had loved her mother, maybe he could still show her some of that kindness. "I'm willing to risk it."

"What if I'm not?" He enquires gently.

Sansa feels desperate, she needs this to work, so in a show of bravery she doesn't feel she rushes in to kiss him. Petyr's lips are soft against hers, he doesn't give her more than a gentle press of his lips, but Sansa holds him closer so he can't pull away. Petyr gives a surprised groan at her unexpected brazenness, and his tongue invades her mouth, which she allows him and when he's able to pull back Petyr's smile turns smug, like that was what he was after all along.

A man still in love with her mother wouldn't have been kissing her thusly, so Sansa thinks maybe one day into their marriage he might love her, just as her parents found love in theirs.

Sansa awakens slowly and just for a moment between the realm of dreams and wakefulness she thinks the past days all just some horrible nightmare, but the moment she opens her eyes to see the surroundings of the brothel she thinks maybe her life growing up in Winterfell and leaving to go to King's Landing was the dream instead.

The sounds of quill on parchment are heard and she turns on her side to see her betrothed, Lord Petyr busy at his desk beside the chaise Sansa had slept on. "My Lord, when will we be leaving?" Sansa sits up to address him.

The quill pauses momentarily, "Not for some days, I still have business to attend with the Tyrell's."

"Shall I attend with you?" Sansa desperately wanted to leave here, even if it was just for a few hours.

"I'm afraid not, you will need to begin your training," Petyr brought an abrupt end to that fancy.

"Training?"

"All my new investments must so," He informs her.

Sansa's mouth is open, she's aghast. "But I'm to be..."

"My wife, I know. But no one outside this room is to know that," Petyr dips his quill in the inkblot and finishes writing out his letter.

He gets up and comes over to her, "How may I address you?" All the niceties are gone from his face and standing before her again is Littlefinger.

"Lady San-"

Littlefinger shakes his head briefly, "I only see a whore before me, no lady."

Sansa stands, and thinks on another name for herself, but she's only thinking of her mother and how much she misses her. "...Cat."

Petyr shakes his head again, his hands grasp her shoulders, "That's a little too close to home. How about Alayne? After my mother."

Sansa nods her consent, Alayne is a nice sounding name. One of Petyr's hands hold a lock of her hair, "We'll need to dye this before we leave."

Sansa's eyes lower, saddened. Her mother loved her Tully red hair, and now not only was she losing her identity, but she was also losing her last connection to her mother.

Not only Sansa is feeling the utter humiliation, she and the other girls have a glass fake-phallus in their hands. They are all being shown the drills of what men expect when you have them in hand (and mouth.) Sansa feels tears cling in her eyelashes as she widens her mouth to bring the glass up to her mouth.

The only comforting thought during this moment of degradation is that everyone in the room doesn't know who she really is. Some are forced to learn on the real male whores that are helping with their training, but one word from Littlefinger himself before he left saved Sansa such a fate.

Sansa doesn't see him again until well after evening meal, she's in his private quarters and she was roaming the books upon the shelves and purposely ignoring the phallus she left on the desk that she was meant to keep practising on.

The book she was reading wasn't very interesting, nothing could hold much of her attention especially when Petyr entered some hours later. If he was surprised to see what was left on his desk, he didn't let it show, even when he placed the thing inside one of the drawers.

This routine went on for days with Sansa's practises continuing during the days and Littlefinger absent on business, than his late returns.

Almost a week had passed and he had returned earlier than planned after a letter came for him informing him of Alayne having locked herself in his study and refusing to cooperate.

Petyr was the only one with a key to his rooms, and as he entered he encountered Sansa wielding a heavy book as a weapon. "What is the meaning of this?" He demanded.

Sansa placed the book down when she saw Petyr and not one of his whores, she was nervous to reveal the truth and her face must've shown how humiliating it would be to say for a lady such as herself. "They -- they wanted me to have more real..." Sansa couldn't bring herself to finish saying it, but Petyr knew what she was trying to convey regardless.

"Did they touch you?" Petyr asked instead. If they had, they'd find themselves down a very deep well.

"They tried," Sansa said, "I ran and locked myself in here before they could."

"Good," Petyr came closer, slowly like he was approaching a spooked deer, "You do need more experience though." His finger against her lips stopped her protests, "but I'll teach you."

The chaise is too narrow to fit the both of them so Petyr brings her into his chamber he's rarely - if ever used. The bedding is draped out in lavish golds and greens, and it looks like it's never been slept in.

The robe slips easily from Sansa's shoulders, one given to her from Petyr's own personal stash. His lips are against her shoulder trying to ease her nervousness, but his kisses just have the opposite affect.

She turns and tries to disrobe him too but his hands stall her. Sansa looks worried, she doesn't what to be the only one naked and exposed. "I promise you'll still be a maiden for our wedding," Petyr says softly to soothe her, but he misses the point of what has Sansa anxious.

Her hands reach for the clasps of his robe again, and again his hands stop her, "please, my Lord?" Sansa kisses him on the lips, and he tilts his head into it and this time he releases his stronghold on her wrists and allows her to undo his robe.

They continue to kiss until most of their items of clothing are on the floor, Sansa feels the infamous scar on Petyr's chest but his hands just misdirect her as their lips stay locked.

Sansa is breathless as she's lowered onto her back, she's just in her smallclothes the same as Petyr. His breath is hot and inviting against hers, "Have you ever pleasured yourself?" Sansa shakes her head no and Petyr just smiles, "very good, you are."

Sansa preens at his praise, Petyr notices, and wonders how he's never noticed that about her before. "Giving can be just as satisfying as receiving," Petyr speaks as if he would be teaching her mathematics.

Sansa just lays there and waits anxiously for what's next. "Let me demonstrate," Petyr groans against her stomach, he nips than kisses her where his teeth dug into her playfully. Sansa cries out in surprise, and bucks up when she feels his hand cup her mound.

His palm rubs against her labia causing in her pleasurable sensations, when she's wet enough a finger eases into her entrance adding to the pleasure. By the time Sansa is gasping and moaning, writhing upon the bed, Petyr places his lips to hers, kissing and muffling the sounds she makes as she has her first orgasm.

When her senses return to her, Sansa notices Petyr is waiting for her, his hand is leisurely stroking his cock. The sight is not a shocking one, in the past week alone she's seen more of the naked form (men and women) than she ever thought she would in one lifetime.

"What do I do?" Sansa asks nervously as Petyr brings one of her hands to his cock, her hand trying to mimic what she had seen him doing.

"Show me what you've learnt," Petyr says, not helping with her anxiety at all. Sansa gulps and turns on her stomach so she's laying between his parted thighs. Her hand keeps pumping and she places kisses to the tip, Sansa looks up at Petyr to see if she's doing it right but he's just staring at her with dark, lust filled eyes.

The first sound from his mouth is when Sansa begins by taking the tip of his cock into her mouth, his groan his loud and guttural, she feels it vibrate against her, and a hand reaches down into her loose hair.

His hands tighten on her when she starts bobbing her head, trying to take more of him down, and she cups one of his balls and delicately squeezes. "So good, Sansa, so good," He praises her, which encourages her to give him more.

"Show me how much you can take," Petyr says looking into her eyes. Their eyes stay locked as Sansa takes more of his length until it activates her gag reflex, Petyr looks down at her proudly "Hold it there a moment," he tells her out of breath.

Sansa does as he says and holds his cock in her mouth for as long as she can without making herself choke. When she can't take it much longer she threatens him with biting him, so he lets her up with a smile.

Sansa rewards him with all her limited knowledge to get him to cum sooner. When he does, he gives her no warning, and Sansa moves back when her mouth is filled, and she's left coughing trying to recover from the shock of it. Petyr is too exhausted to laugh, but he draws her close so she'll nap against him.

The sun was shining when Sansa woke, she must have slept the whole afternoon and night away, but the fact that she woke up alone bothered her more than anything else. Her mother always warned her daughters never to give themselves away before their wedding night, Sansa wished she had listened to her now.

In the hopes of building affection, she might have pushed Petyr away for good now. She got up and threw on her robe, but all morning she felt used and disgusting.

It was hours before Petyr returned, and when he did, he had people follow him that brought them a banquet that was spread out on the table.

Sansa contained her emotions and she held back her relieved tears as she piled her plate full. After Sansa had her fill of food Petyr became ravenous for something else, and that was the first of many times Sansa would scream as he went down on her.

Sansa would reciprocate in kind, and in the weeks that followed they became more proficient, sometimes she would even initiate their pleasure.

There once was a time when Sansa wanted nothing more than to see and live in Highgarden, but now she longed for the day her and Petyr were to marry, so they could leave Highgarden and never look back.

Sansa was trying to get to know her new husband but he seemed to withdraw whenever she tried to get emotionally closer, he would even distract her with an orgasm, but Sansa refused to give up so easily.

Sansa awoke the following morning and followed her usual morning routine, when she stepped out she was pleasantly surprised to see Petyr hadn't left but was busy writing at his desk. She came over and hovered near the armrest, "When are we to marry?" Sansa inquired but wanted to know how much longer Petyr was delaying their leave.

"Not for at least another week," Petyr didn't stop writing as he responded.

The answer didn't make Sansa happy, not at all. "My sweet husband-to-be, you've been so busy lately why don't I help you," Sansa sounded sweet, her lips kissed paths down his cheek, down his neck felt even sweeter. She kneeled and spread Petyr's thighs apart and moved aside his clothes to kiss down his abdomen.

Petyr grunted and moaned the lower Sansa went, and he helped to open his breaches for her. She pumped Petyr's softened cock until it became hard and was leaking precome in her hands.

Sansa licked the tip sucking away his excess fluids causing a guttural groan from him, and she felt him cup her head to encourage her more. Sansa put him in her mouth, bobbing up and down a few times until she relaxed into the familiarity of it again and took more of his cock down further into her mouth, down her throat, and held it there.

Petyr had been training Sansa to hold him in her mouth for a period of time, and today she mean to break him.

Petyr was in pleasurable hell. He tried to focus on his messages but every time Sansa heard his quill move she would start sucking and pleasuring him harder. If he didn't move neither would she. Sansa had her mouth around his cock still by the time lunch rolled around.

The lads who brought in their meal got quite the surprise but neither Sansa nor Petyr moved from their positions. Petyr wasn't hungry and so the food remained untouched.

Late afternoon Petyr had to deal with a few disgruntled customers, but after they saw the display Sansa put on for them, they left with smiles and a few extra whores to keep them occupied.

Whenever Petyr wished for a release Sansa refused him easing off him, and when he tried to push the issue Sansa threatened his cock with her teeth, meaning to bite.

Until Sansa heard babbling, _"Please Sansa, anything... I'll give you anything, just let me come."_

Sansa worked rigorously to pump Petyr's cock, her hand cupped his balls in just the right way he liked, and that's all that was needed for Petyr to release into Sansa's willing mouth.

Sansa moved up to sit astride Petyr's lap, his hands were desperate to pull her closer clutching at her, and she looked at him sweetly again and kissed his exhausted lips with her swollen ones. "I want you, now," Petyr panted against her lips.

"Marry me on the morrow," Sansa demanded, holding his face, "Then I am yours."

"Plans came be pushed forward, but it is done," Petyr replied quickly, and placed kisses to her pulse point, and down to her cleavage.

Sansa tilted her head back, smiling up towards the ceiling.


	3. The Fingers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> petyrbaaaeeelish requested; “Petyr takes Sansa back home”, it can be canon or not, “reading together” or “hold hands”

_“Bring them to me now, I want to see them fly!”_

The fire was crackling in the heath providing some warmth against the raging winds whistling through tiny gaps of the windowpanes, and door frames. Winter was upon them, and Sansa feared one more heavy gust of wind from the storm outside would blow Petyr’s childhood home right out from its hinges. The only other sound the two occupants could hear was the rustling of papers turning.

Kella had long since left, leaving the two alone to their evening. It felt calm and peaceful as they read beside the fire, Sansa from a beloved childhood book of Petyr’s she had found days ago, and Petyr from his letters that had arrived for him that very evening.

Sansa smiled, her first real honest smile she could remember having since before her father's head was severed from his neck, as Petyr patted her knee. A small, sweet gesture as she read aloud about Duncan the Small, but Petyr really meant for her to stop as it brought back painful memories he’d much rather forget.

The peaceful atmosphere between them was an illusion, covering up the ugly truth of why they were both back at the Fingers.

_Alayne was strolling through the corridors, hiding in alcoves if she heard footsteps get too close as she tried desperately to escape Sweetrobin’s yells for her. It had been a long day for her already, as the tourney had begun and Alayne was feeling exhausted._

_She had lifted her skirts as she rushed down a narrow staircase, she was looking down, making sure she wouldn’t fall as she hastened, when a hand covered her mouth muffling the sound of her surprised scream as she was pushed back into another darkened alcove. “Father?”_

_Petyr could hear his title even through the hand covering her mouth. “Why the rush, sweetling?” Petyr released her mouth but not her waist, he encircled her, drawing them closer together. Just as Alayne was about to answer her father they both heard her name being called._

_Alayne felt breathless at their closeness, in recent weeks Petyr had been getting more and more bold in his displays of affection. More shockingly, Alayne had been reciprocating said affections, even anticipating them. Longing for them. Hoping against hope father’s kisses would linger just that little bit longer._

_The first kiss Sansa and Petyr had ever shared was stolen, just like all the rest of the men in her life, taking from her rather than waiting for receiving. But never again._

_After Lysa had died by the terrible hands of Marillion, Petyr never took from her again, only waited for Alayne to kiss him instead. It was wonderful, lovely, to share affections on her terms for a change._

_To see Alayne blooming and coming into herself as she found herself in more pleasant surroundings, so unlike Sansa who was beaten daily at the hands of the kingsguard, and groped most inappropriately by the maesters, Hounds, and husbands of King’s Landing. Those who took and wanted to take of her until there was nothing left._

_Petyr, her father saved her from all that._

_Alayne was ever so grateful to him, so her affections couldn’t be falsified. Even though most days Alayne’s smiles and affections for her betrothed were as false as her father’s. Affection was blooming between them, maybe even dare she say, love. A complete contrast from those who came before, and Alayne’s heart skipped a beat as she and Petyr shared breaths._

_“I’m sure you could handle one story,” Petyr tried to persuade Alayne into spending some time with Robin but she shook her head, refusing. An eyebrow rose, the only sign of Petyr’s amusement, “the sweetsleep will soon be in effect, so why don’t you run along, hm?”_

_“If that’s the case then I’m sure he’d love you see you, father.” Alayne smiled as Petyr laughed at her cheek._

_“My daughter does jest, sadly I’m needed in my solar,” Petyr caressed her jaw, his thumb coming dangerously close to Alayne’s lower lip. Alayne’s breathing changed as she suppressed a gasp, Petyr noticed, his darkened eyes were drawn to Alayne’s bosom almost spilling out of the tops of her dress._

_Alayne took a gamble with them so out in the open and closed the last remaining space between them and kissed him. It had been days since she had last felt his lips upon hers, and she had missed this, her eyes closed in bliss._

_Petyr’s arms made Alayne secure within his hold, leaving her no room to escape, one of his hands lowered cupping her derrière as Alayne’s arms raised to encircle his neck, but she pushed him back and separated from him quickly when someone gasped out in shock._

_Harrold stood there looking appalled, and before a word could be uttered among them Brune came from out of the darkness and dragged Harry away._

Sansa hated the Fingers the first time she laid eyes upon it, she thought it was a small and pathetic scrap of land and not even half the size of Winterfell, it smelt bad, and she turned her nose up at being in such a place so far beneath her station, and to make matters worse she was almost raped in the room provided to her. But when Alayne saw the Fingers upon arriving weeks ago, and she smelt the fresh sea air after days confined to the small carriage and she laid eyes on the small tower that once housed baby Petyr within its walls, and she saw Kella come out to greet them warmly, she shed tears of joy.

They had all tried rushing her into the house where it was warmer, but Alayne strolled over to the rocky cliffside instead, and spread her arms out wide as she savoured the feel of the brisk sea air reaching out to embrace her.

As Sansa finished the last verse and closed the book once she was done, she saw Petyr seated across from her absentmindedly stroking his scar through his thick layers of clothing, his fingers knowing the exact path to take after all these years, as his stare seemed to be off a million miles away.

“Nice memories?” Sansa asked, breaking Petyr away from the visions that had gripped him so.

“Are they ever?” Petyr asked her instead. Sansa could relate to that.

“What am I?” Sansa suddenly asked, as she wanted to know if she was just another bitter memory he clung too, a poor imitation of a woman long since dead or if she was something he wanted to cling to.

Petyr got up from his seat and joined her on the couch situated close to the fire, his ringed hands held her face as he searched her eyes for answers to questions never asked. His lips touched hers delicately, softly, reminiscent of their first kiss. Sansa’s eyes closed with an overwhelming feeling of tenderness, and they remained closed even when Petyr drew back. “Does that answer your question?”

Sansa’s eyes opened to see Petyr looking at her with the most affection she’d ever seen from his grey-green eyes, her lips still tingled from where his lips had just touched hers. “Not even slightly,” Sansa answered and Petyr’s answering smile was genuine.

_Alayne cried prettily from the stands as she and along with all the crowds witnessed the fatal blow that took Harry from his horse. Guards rushed to see if they could stop the bleeding as he was taken to the maester’s tent._

_Alayne followed her father from down the stands as he and Lord Royce examined the bridle and saddle for any tampering. Both Lords were furious when as they found the saddle not fastened properly, Alayne was the first to see the frightened stable boy watching them, and it was Petyr who called him over. “Do you know who did this?”_

_The boy could barely get his words out._

_“Speak up boy.” Lord Royce was also getting impatient, “tell us who you saw.”_

_“Lady Myranda.”_

_“You lie!” Lord Royce was livid, but men held him back as his temper got the better of him._

_“Find Lady Myranda, and arrest her,” Petyr ordered the guards._

_“You dare do this, Lord Baelish! You touch a hair on her head, and you’ll wish you’d never been born,” Royce roared._

_“Is that a threat I hear, Lord Royce?” Petyr’s smile was like ice._

_“Mark my words” Royce began but Petyr turned away and escorted his daughter back to her chambers._

_Alayne was deeply asleep when she was violently woken by Petyr shaking her shoulders. “Wake up. Wake up.”_

_Alayne rubbed her eyes sleepily as she tried to orientate herself, “what time is it?”_

_“Witching hour we pray,” Petyr tossed the bedding aside trying to rouse her more, “now come on. Dress and pack, quickly dear.”_

_Petyr seemed frantic, he was definitely concerned about something, but it was more concerning how he wanted her to pack. Alayne went for the jewels that were a gift from her father after his wife had died, but his hands stalled her, “only what you need. Now hurry,” Petyr spoke desperately._

_Petyr paced the room as Alayne packed the bare essentials, she didn’t even have time to dress, Petyr handed her, her travelling cloak as he bundled her up and they snuck out in the cover of darkness._

_Brune was waiting a mile down the road with their carriage, Alayne was helped inside and Petyr followed in behind her. The moment they were in the carriage, and before she had a chance to sit they were off._

_Alayne soon fell back asleep as they rushed through the night, but Petyr stayed wide awake._

_They were in trouble, Myranda had talked, he had miscalculated, he never should have allowed her a trial. He never should have trusted that stupid stable boy either. One mention of the moondoor and they both sung like canaries. Even Maester Coleman spoke up against the mishandling of Lord Robert once others begun speaking up, giving Robin enough courage to demand for Petyr and Alayne’s deaths._

_Too many loose ends Petyr should’ve taken care of sooner, but he had stupidly been drunk on the feelings of Sansa’s returned affections as of late. Littlefinger was furious with himself, and now they were escaping for their lives, fleeing back to his home as he waited on further arrangements to get them out of Westeros and to Braavos._

“What do you see when you look at me?” Sansa asked as she watched Petyr tend to the fire. Petyr put the poker back and turned from his kneeling place on the rug to examine her as he pondered on how best to answer. Sansa came over and joined him on the furred rug kneeling with him, “who do you see, Petyr?” She asked him instead.

Petyr tipped her head back so he was hovering over her, and she allowed him to move her how he wished. His fingers were woven amongst her dark locks, he missed the red. _“Sansa”_ he breathed against her lips just as he kissed her.

His hand traced a path down her breasts as he pulled at the knot holding her dress in place. Sansa moaned as she landed on her back, following Petyr’s example as they slowly undressed.

His massaging hands coerced her thighs apart, allowing him to settle and delightfully pinned her down under his weight. Petyr was being sweet, he was gentle, even his kisses were soft. Sansa felt alive, sensual, and powerful as she held Petyr close to her naked body. Her whole body was a source of comfort and pleasure, some tears escaped in gratitude.

For the first time her body wasn’t being used against her, it wasn’t betraying her, or hurting her. And before Petyr had a chance to ask if she was in any pain, she kissed him again.

Sansa’s roving hands settled against his scarred chest. Petyr moaned into the kiss, he grew more passionate, he didn't push her hands away this time, he wanted her to explore his body.

As he prepared for them to join, lining himself up, Sansa’s thighs instinctively wrapped around his slim waist, Petyr reached down for one of Sansa’s hands and entwined their fingers together. Their joined hands rested against her hair that was spread out on the furs Sansa was laying upon, and every time a name passed Petyr's lips it was always _Sansa._

The ship was ready, the horses were ready for their travel and Petyr had gotten Kella to pack their luggage ready for their voyage. They were cutting things close, Kettleblack’s men had spotted knights of the Vale scouting the area for them, but the only thing missing was Sansa.

Sansa loved the view of the sea, and none was better than right against the cliffside. The height didn’t frighten her, her feet were sure on the rocks. Every chance she had, she would come out to look at this view as Petyr busied himself with plans, but this was where Sansa truly felt free.

Petyr’s childhood home seemed meager, weak and small at first, but like the man himself it held hidden wonders, and was stronger than first assumed. He was truly blessed to have grown up with these beautiful views.

Her eyes closed as the wind whipped around her, and for a moment she heard the breeze calling for her.

_Sansa_

Petyr was scared, a rarity not felt since Brandon had accepted his challenge and a sword was put in his hands. He could see the knights within eyesight and still Sansa was nowhere to be found.

“My Lord, we should go now,” Ser Brune spoke.

Petyr gave him a nod, seeing reason, “find her, we’ll meet at the docks.” Petyr’s voice withheld a pleading note, barely.

Petyr was fast on horseback but not fast enough as the knights gave chase and struck him down. The men were rough, manhandling him back onto his feet, “Lord Baelish, you are hereby under arrest on the orders of Lord Arryn for high treason.”

Petyr wasn’t listening, he didn’t fightback as they put him in chains, his voice went hoarse with every shout of her name got louder. _“Sansa”_

* * *

Years had passed, and most of them hadn’t been kind. Kella’s hair had completely gone white, she had seen her children grow up along with their children. The ale was strong on this night, and the music turned grim as the minstrel begun a familiar melody of the tragic tale of the fingers.

Tears tracked down Kella’s cheek as she remembered the sweet lovers torn apart, she could barely recall what her Lord looked like anymore, but the only thing she was sure of nowadays was that he had begun going grey in the hair.

The Fingers had long since been abandoned, the tower left to rot. But if one dared to venture close it was said if the wind blew strong; one could see a maiden of red wandering by the rocks.


	4. An end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kaylas-artistry asked a question: 'How would you have ended Petyr and Sansa's story?' on tumblr. 
> 
> I've written a few endings I would prefer to see, like the previous chapter "The Fingers", but this question got my writing juices flowing, so here's another. 
> 
> (I wrote this in such a way so that it works for both the books and the show)

Preparations to head north were well underway, the army was ready. They were almost ready. There were ships in waiting. Ready in waiting on their orders, to carry more supplies. 

The hour was late, and the castle was quiet. Sansa couldn’t sleep, sleep wouldn’t come no matter how hard she tried. She snuck out of bed and made her way down the empty corridors, with only a single candle to help her navigate the dark halls, until she arrived at the right door. 

The door opened without a creak so her presence never alerted the sleeping occupant. Sansa placed the candle down beside Petyr’s dagger, Sansa picked it up and looked upon the small weapon.

She took a hold of the silver handle and unsheathed the expensive looking dagger usually strapped to his hip. Sansa made her way closer to the bed. Petyr was deeply asleep, his bedclothes had been long since tossed aside.

He looked peacefully rumpled, and years younger. Whatever stresses plagued him during daylight hours couldn’t be seen upon his face as he found solace in slumber. 

Sansa carefully climbed upon the bed beside him. The extra weight caused a groan to pass from the lips of the sleeping man, and Sansa held her breath anxiously, hoping he wouldn’t wake yet. He rolled over onto his back, and settled peacefully again in sleep, making it easier for Sansa to straddle him as she originally intended. 

Petyr’s tunic was loose, and he was exposed, along with the scar that bisected his entire chest. Sansa’s eyes were drawn to the scar, how could they not. It was old, and jagged, but not yet faded. With a gentle hand and an even gentler touch her fingers caressed the length of the scar. It went on forever, and she blushed as she saw it went down further past then the bedding, past the point of modesty, and down through the trail of dark hair that was leading to his groin. 

The last time Petyr ever awoke under the weight of someone straddling him, he woke with the name of the one he loved _‘Cat’_ upon his lips, but the wrong sister sitting over his crotch. It was a horrid cruelty to take of him while he was too weak to fight her off, the pain from his freshly bisected chest was beyond excruciating, and that was the last thing he could remember before he blacked out from the pain. 

“Sansa?” 

His voice was still horse from slumber, and this time he awoke just like last time with the name of the one he loved passing his lips again. The only difference this time was the who. 

When he opened his eyes, he could’ve sworn he was still asleep, for why else would his deepest desire be a reality. He had long since given up on his dreams, but his heart still ached upon the sight of his ethereal beauty sitting astride his lap, and with her hands over his scar. 

He was caught in a moment of weakness; Sansa knew by the disbelief in his voice and the longing in his eyes. She still had a hold of the dagger, that she now rested against his shoulder. 

Petyr felt the cold steel but he refused to look elsewhere, his eyes remained focused solely on Sansa’s face. “Have you come to fuck me, or kill me?” 

“You lied to me,” Sansa replied instead of answering him directly. 

“I haven’t lied to you,” Petyr's answer was smooth but not enough. 

“Omitted then.” 

“Everyone has, sweet girl.” Petyr tried to act smug, but it could only be so effective with a dagger pointed right at him, “even you. How long have you been planning my death?” 

The tip of the dagger was now pointed right at his jugular, “I want none of your games, only truth now.” 

Petyr swallowed thickly at the anger radiating off of her, “go on then.” 

“Do you love me?” 

That was a question he was expecting, and he answered honestly, “yes.” 

“More than--” 

“I love _you,_ Sansa.” Petyr emphasised. 

“Are you only being honest because you fear for your life?” Sansa wanted to know. 

“I’d imagine anyone would say just about anything if it meant they kept their life,” Petyr smiled. 

“So, you’re lying to me.” Sansa’s fist tightened around the dagger, but eased slightly when she saw Petyr shake his head negatively in the candlelight. “Did you want to kill my father?” A tear fell down Sansa’s cheek as she tried to remember what her father looked like. 

Petyr swallowed again around the lump forming in his throat, he hesitated. “Yes.” 

“If you could go back, would you change what happened?” 

That was not a question he expected, and when her hand moved over his scar again, that was just as surprising, and he let out a shuddering gasp at the sensation, of someone touching him so gently. Sansa might still be threatening him with his own dagger, but he wasn’t prepared to feel the way he did with Sansa being so delicate with a part of himself he always wanted to keep hidden. 

One of his hands touched her thigh, the material of her nightdress rose with his hand as he stroked her leg, cupped her waist and settled on her hip for a moment before he pressed down on her back so Sansa would have no choice but to lean down, so their faces were closer. 

Sansa’s gasped this time, but she didn’t stop him from touching her. His other hand wrapped around Sansa’s wrist, and together they had a hold of the dagger. “Not if it leads us to this moment.” Petyr finally answered her question. 

They were inches apart. “Could you give it all up if it meant you got to live?” Sansa breathed against his mouth; she was trembling. 

“Do you love me?” Petyr asked as he shuddered with desire too, his erection was growing uncomfortably below the bedding.

“I don't want to.”

“That's not a no” Petyr's smile looked broken, “you never answered my first question though.” 

They both let out moans when they kissed, neither one rushed, and neither one could tell who initiated the kiss. They both took their time, they kissed slowly, deliberately and delicately, and when their mouths opened to be explored further, they both dropped the dagger to hold onto each other. 

Days later when the army marched north two lovers boarded a ship heading east that would take them far away from Westeros. 


	5. friends to....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 4 months ago kaylas-artistry requested:
> 
> (person a) “I have something to tell you”  
> (person b) “Oooh - Are you about to profess your undying love for me?”  
> (person a) “Yes, I am”  
> (person b) “.... What?” 
> 
> As a bonus: being stuck at their house during a blizzard, and possibly been friends for years.

The wind had been howling all day but just like everyone else Sansa ignored it. Sansa was humming along to the song that was coming from the shops speakers as she strolled the aisles, placing the occasional item she needed in her trolley as she passed each one. She thought she’d do a little late-night shopping before going home.

As she made her way to the frozen foods section that’s when the whole place went black, all the lights went off and all the people around her began panicking like mad. Sansa knew there was no use freaking out herself, she just took out her phone from her purse and activated the torch. Sansa pushed her trolley to the front with her, she looked for any of the staff to try and get some answers but one of the head staff members was already trying to calm the masses gathering.

“It’s the whole store, we don’t know how long it’ll take to get the power back.”

“But I need my stuff!” One panicked elderly woman yelled, fearing she’d have to go without her purchases.

“Those who need their groceries, we can do those manually. Anyone who doesn’t - please leave your trolleys where they are, our staff can return your items for you.” 

Sansa let out an annoyed sigh, resigned to leaving all her food behind. She made her way through the dark towards to exit carefully, a few times someone tried to bowl her over so she walked more cautiously.

Once back in her car she didn’t fare much better, the sun was setting and all the streetlights were out everywhere, and everyone were driving on the roads like maniacs as the storm came in quite thick. Sansa got scared when someone almost plowed into her from the side, if she had been going just that touch faster Sansa’s car could’ve ended up in a ditch. So, she took the first turnoff, she didn’t want to take any more risks driving through the city in order to get home now, instead she headed for her friend's place that was thankfully much closer. 

As Sansa pulled into Petyr’s driveway she huffed when the button dangling from her keys didn’t work and activate the gates opening. All the lights were out along the street leading up to his house, and she couldn’t see any lights on through any of the windows either, even though she knew Petyr had a backup generator. 

By the time Sansa had manually opened the gates herself, she was completely soaked through and she was shivering from the cold-biting hail. The battery in her phone was dying and on its last legs as she made her way inside with the spare key Petyr had given her years ago.

No lights were on, Sansa was worried. “Petyr! Where are you? Petyr?” She kept shouting; she knew he must have been home; his car was here. 

“Sansa?” Petyr finally heard her, it sounded like his voice had come from upstairs so Sansa headed up there. 

Petyr had been taking a leisurely bubble bath from some of the leftover products he’d found from Sansa’s stash she had left behind from the last time she had stayed over; he had surrounded himself with candles and had been sipping his favourite bourbon so he had been completely unaware of the devastation the storm had been causing outside. 

Firstly, Sansa could smell the incense from the burning candles as she came closer, and the strong tang of the alcohol Petyr had been consuming. 

“What are you doing here, is everything alright? And what the hell is up with the lights, nothings working” Petyr looked around dazed as he tied the ends of his purple silk bathrobe closed; he was still dripping water on the floor, coming right from the bathtub to investigate.

He covered his eyes, “get that outta my face!”

Sansa sheepishly lowered her phone when she accidently shone the torch right in his eyes but it went out seconds later. Bye bye phone.

“Powers out,” Sansa answered Petyr’s initial question. “It wasn’t safe out there.”

Petyr came closer and wrapped an arm protectively around her shoulders, “you did the right thing coming here.”

Sansa inhaled deeply when she caught the smell of something pleasant. “Do I smell vanilla?” Sansa laughed.

Petyr furrowed his brow, “don’t judge!”

They headed into the bathroom and Petyr went about preparing Sansa a fresh bath.

He left the room holding one of the candles from the tray that housed many, he shortly returned with some towels and another bathrobe, “freshen up, sweetling.” He cupped her chin affectionally, “I’ll get us something to eat, okay.”

Sansa smiled at her oldest friend warmly as she begun peeling off her wet clothes off, “thank you.” Petyr gave her an answering smile then closed the door to give her some privacy. 

Petyr had always had a flirtatious nature, even when they met over ten years ago so his open displays of affection and actions was something Sansa was used to. 

Sansa was humming as she dried off her hair and then combed it, donning Petyr’s spare bathrobe he’d left out for her. She could understand why Petyr had been soaking himself for hours, she would’ve too if he wasn’t waiting for her to come downstairs to eat.

All her soiled clothes were left in the empty tub to dry in the meantime, the washer and dryer were useless while they expected to wait out the storm and she didn’t want feel Petyr’s rath if she left wet clothes hanging round the floor to get moldy. 

Instead of wasting the candles, Sansa took the whole tray Petyr had left for her and carried the heavy thing with her as she made her way downstairs in search of her friend, ignoring the heat it radiated up into her face. 

Sansa made her way into the living room and placed her burdensome tray of candles down on the nearest coffee table, there were more candles burning that Petyr had set about living room and lead into the kitchen. Sansa wondered where he had bought so many of them.

Petyr came in to join her with another tray in hand, with all their food prepared, placing it down in front of her, “Hope you like cold everything!” Petyr joked as Sansa surveyed her options of cut sandwiches, a quick salad that had been tossed together, and some cheeses with some crackers, and a single pickle for her - which Sansa snatched up first.

Sansa laughed, “sounds good.”

Petyr picked at one of the sandwiches, and Sansa saw he had set aside a glass of Sansa’s favourite merlot for her. “What’s up with the generator?” Sansa’s curiosity couldn’t be contained any longer, not that she minded the dinner by candlelight.

“No fuel,” Petyr replied after swallowing his mouthful.

“You couldn’t take the fuel from your car and put it in the generator so we wouldn’t be in the dark?” Sansa questioned condescendingly.

“Do I look like the do-it-yourself handyman type.” Petyr scoffed, giving as good as he got, “but since you’re so eager, knock yourself out.”

Sansa laughed, “I’m not going back out there in just a silk robe.”

“Pity.” One of Petyr’s eyebrows rose intrigued at the visual she had just given him, smugly.

Petyr was looking at her strangely, Sansa didn’t know what to do so she laughed it off. “You wish, pervert.” Sansa gave him a little push, shoving Petyr’s shoulder playfully.

Petyr smiled awkwardly, “More wine?”

Sansa relaxed when Petyr became his usual self again, “I’m good.” Sansa didn’t want to drink too much for when the time came for her to drive home.

“How about some ice cream then?” Petyr enticed.

Sansa gasped, “You were holding out on me!” She shoved his shoulder for real this time, “Never do that again!”

Petyr laughed and got up to retrieve the tubs from the freezer, they might as well be eaten up or else they’d just go to waste melting away in the freezer now getting warmer. 

Sansa was laughing so hard she was practically choking on her mouthful of cherry-vanilla ice cream. “It got worse when she burst in and saw Tommen in nothing but a dipper getting whipped and yelling _‘Mummy, Mummy!’_ at the top of his lungs” Petyr laughed along with Sansa as he finished telling the rest of his story.

“That’s horrible!” Sansa managed to get ahold of herself, barely.

“So now they’re getting a divorce.” Petyr waved his spoon about, finishing up with the inevitable conclusion to that story, his tub of caramel swirl balanced nicely on his knees.

Sansa’s laughter died down at hearing yet another couple's marriage had failed, now she just cringed. Seems like everyone’s relationships were failing nowadays. Sansa had yet to tell Petyr that her cousin and his partner (of ten years) were breaking up too.

“Sansa, you got a bit --” Petyr waved at her face to get her attention.

“Huh?” Sansa didn’t know what he was going on about.

“You’ve gotten some on your face - there” Petyr pointed out.

“Where!” Sansa was embarrassed, she tried wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve, “did I get it?”

Petyr chuckled at her cute antics, “here, let me...” He reached over and wiped at her cheek, higher then where Sansa had been wiping. Sansa got quiet when she saw Petyr lick his thumb, tasting the cream he had wiped from her cheek “yummy” she heard his quiet comment.

Petyr noticed how she had gone silent, and he thought now was as a perfect time as any. “I have something to tell you” Petyr begun, sounding quite serious all of a sudden.

“Oooh - Are you about to profess your undying love for me?” Sansa joked to lighten the mood.

Petyr looked right into her eyes, “Yes, I am.”

“.... What?” Sansa was stunned, to say the least, “That’s not funny.”

Petyr gulped audibly, that wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for, “I wasn’t trying to be funny.” 

Sansa started laughing, Petyr got highly offended, he was about to react and say something when he noticed it sounded sick, then Sansa crumbled into herself. 

In the early days of their friendship Petyr was even more of a gentleman than he was now, he was always kissing her hands whenever he greeted her, and opening doors for her – that isn’t to say he wasn’t chivalrous when the opportunity arose – he just dialled back on the open hand kisses and the _‘beautiful Sansa’ ‘Sansa, my love’_ then suddenly it stopped for like no reason at all, then he stuck to just calling her _‘sweetling’_. Sansa’s heart ached as she remembered those early days, she rubbed her chest, trying to rid herself of the phantom pain. Sansa had resigned herself long ago into accepting she wasn’t going to be anything else but just a very good friend. Now she didn’t know what to do with his sudden confession, it threw her for a loop. 

“Sansa?” Petyr patted her back where she was hunched over, sounding concerned.

“I never told you, Jon’s been dumped.” Sansa wasn’t making any sense, not at first. Sansa sat back up and looked far off, past the candles and far off into the darkness. “They were together for ten years, that’s almost how long we’ve been friends. Did you know that?”

Petyr blinked confusedly, “Okay...”

“Then you tell me how Tommen was cheating on Margaery,” Sansa waved her hands around desperately. Petyr was beginning to see where Sansa was going with this.

“So because Tommen is a cheating asshole, and Jon is a pathetic loser who can’t make his own relationship work you’ve doomed us before there was even a chance.” Petyr pointed between the both of them.

Sansa shook her head, “Noo, that’s not it at all.”

“Have you seriously never considered it?” Petyr smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes when Sansa just sat there quietly, “Then it’s just me. You feel nothing.”

“No, I...” Sansa was at a loss; she didn’t know how to explain herself.

Sansa took too long it seemed; Petyr begun to get to his feet. “Forget it.”

“No, stay” Sansa reached for his hand to stall him. “Please?” She added when she saw how skeptical Petyr looked. She tugged on his hand in order to get him to sit down again.

He did so reluctantly, he noticed that Sansa hadn’t let go of his hand either and she rested her cheek upon his shoulder. “I’m afraid of how things can change, how time moves so quickly when you’re not paying attention...” Sansa looked down at his hand trapped in hers.

“Things can’t stay the same, Sansa.” Petyr leant against her head; he closed his eyes hoping this wouldn’t be the last time they were ever this close.

Sansa nodded against him; Petyr felt her nodding. “I didn’t know we had been friends this long until I got that message from Jon, that so much time had passed... but I’d regret this more if I lost this chance again.”

Petyr felt hope rising within his chest, “Again?” Again, what did that mean? Petyr needed to know what she meant by that.

“You just shocked me is all,” Sansa tried explaining herself again.

“I gathered that much,” Petyr was getting aggravated again.

“I’m not explaining this well,” Sansa talked under her breath, mainly to herself, she breathed deeply, shakily, and nervously. She tried looking at Petyr, her best friend for over ten years, and she failed to look him in the eye when it mattered most. “I never thought we’d ever get this chance again.”

There was that word again, _‘again’._ Petyr tilted his head; she had his full attention. He didn’t say anything fearing she would stop talking, or reveal she felt nothing for him.

“I never dreamed this would happen. I hoped for many years something would happen between us...” Sansa thought back on all the times she’d tried flirting with him, only to chicken out at the last second. She didn’t want to waste another ten years for something like this to happen again. Petyr proved he wouldn’t wait around that long, not again. So Sansa had reached for his hand, grabbing whatever she could reach of him to make him stay because she feared losing Petyr for good, and she knew she had been seconds away from letting that happen. 

Petyr didn’t dare to hope, but his treacherous heart betrayed him and he hoped he wasn’t too late.

“How long?” Sansa asked.

“Huh?” Petyr was confused.

“How long have you loved me?” Sansa repeated, sounding even more nervous than he felt.

“Since I met you.”

“Since-” Sansa covered her mouth unable to continue. Petyr was about to say something else but he never got the chance to, Sansa reached up and kissed him, her hands tugging the back of his head and his neck desperately in order to pull him closer.

The feel of Sansa’s lips against his snapped him out of whatever was distracting him, he quickly participated, he cupped the back of Sansa’s head in order to deepen their kiss. Sansa moaned, and Petyr would’ve taken the kiss further but Sansa pulled back way too soon for his liking. “We’re fools.”

“What do you mean?” Petyr’s eyes were drinking in the unkept just-snogged look upon Sansa’s face, it was very becoming on her, and fell even more in love with her.

“I love you, Petyr” Sansa sounded really shy all of a sudden, she was blushing too, “I have for many years.”

Petyr’s smile was honest, the most honest she had even seen it in all the years she’d known him, and he was all the more beautiful because of it. “I love you too, fool.”

“Hey, don’t call me a f---” Petyr cut off her reprimand with another kiss.

Petyr moaned this time when Sansa yanked on the lapels of his robe tugging on him, Petyr willingly allowed himself to be pulled down so he was laying over her as they made out on his couch.

Neither one of them took any notice of the tubs of melting ice cream that had been knocked off onto the floor.

Sansa pulled at the tie free to pull Petyr’s robe off, Petyr pulled at Sansa’s but Petyr refused to let her go long enough to pull their bathrobes off entirely. His hand cupped under one of her thighs, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. Petyr felt like he couldn’t get close enough to Sansa. He didn’t let her go, he never wanted to let her go. 


	6. my heaven is your hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About 3 months ago andinanotherlifetime requested the following: Hello, could you write a PXS fic with an angel and demon theme?

Sansa just wanted to help the humans, she did little things, subtle things. Like a little nudge here, and few bends of time there. Nothing too large so that they would suspect divine intervention. Just small moments in time that people tended to overlook but could drastically alter their lives if they weren’t careful. (Sometimes for the worse) Like a desperate girl too poor to afford all her groceries for the week; who was short ten dollars. She might suddenly find the spare tenner in her pants pocket so she wouldn't be caught stealing as she goes through the checkout. Or a young guy crossing the street after getting off the bus might suddenly find himself on the other side of the street in less time it would take to walk, so he wouldn’t get flattened under the wheels of the bus itself.

But one thing Sansa could never do, something all angels were forbidden to do was talk to them. For humans were incapable of comprehending the vastness of an angel's divinity. 

Another thing that changed when she came down to earth, Sansa was never bored, not since she begun looking after one soul after the next. There were so many of them in need of help she would easily find another lost soul before her last job was completed. 

One soul in particular Sansa had now been trying her damnedest to help for years, he was an older gentleman, late thirties, extremely handsome. All her brothers and sisters thought she was crazy for wanting to help him, but Sansa honestly thought no one was too old for forgiveness.

Petyr Baelish, corrupt blanket lawyer, helping those who should stay behind bars instead of those in desperate need of his help, it was sad to see, but Sansa could see the goodness in him, buried deep but it was there. So, Sansa refused to give up, she knew with a little help from yours truly, he would find himself on the right path again. Sansa was there throughout his entire life from the moment he took his first breath, ever watchful. He wasn’t always such a devious man, he used to be a sweet young boy, and Sansa seriously thought he could be that again, a sweet kind man. 

Sansa watched him, looked over him, she had been sitting beside him in the courtroom, she was so close she could touch him, run her fingers through his hair if she was so inclined. Petyr’s hand twitched, like he wanted to do so as well. Sansa had never been this bold before with any other human, but there was something about Petyr she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Sansa only ever got this close to him recently, only months by human standards. Sansa was beginning to see a change in him though, every now and again Petyr knew things that no human should know. He did it again, when she followed him through the halls of the courts, she tried nudging Petyr towards a young man innocent of murder, she knew he could help, he was a good lawyer regardless of the people he chose to represent.

It would’ve been subtle, he wouldn’t even be able to feel it, not even feel a gust of wind to help him change course, but it didn’t work on him. Not like it did with everyone else. Instead, Petyr just shrugged his shoulders like he had an itch there, and just kept on walking. He never once bothered to turn and look at the poor man who was sitting forlornly on the bench either, Petyr just brushed by him like he was nothing.

Sansa was gobsmacked, her power of persuasion didn’t work. It always worked, so why not with this man. 

Sansa followed Petyr closely and stuck to his side like glue for the rest of the day trying again and again to see if she could move him. Sansa stared at him while he worked, she looked on so intently she was waiting for a slipup, if he would look back at her, but he just continued working and Sansa counted the amount of times Petyr blinked. 

Petyr got in his car at the end of his workday, driving insanely fast for someone in peak hour traffic and within the city limits. Sansa tried releasing his foot off the accelerator so she wouldn’t feel like she was going to fly through the windshield at any second, but that didn’t work either, he just sped up even more. 

Sansa felt nervous sitting in the passager seat, seeing first-hand at the speeds with which Petyr went, more than once she wanted to grip the handle rail for dear life. Sansa was in fear of a crash even though the impact wouldn’t kill her. Even Petyr’s blasted music was too loud, it would’ve given her a headache if she was ever prone to something so human as all that. “The least you could do, is turn it down!” Sansa grumbled unhappily. 

_“No.”_

Sansa snapped her head and turned to him, her mouth hanging open shocked beyond measure. “You can hear me?” Sansa had to be imagining it, there was no way a human could ever hear an angel of the lord without His permission.

“Uugh!” Petyr murmured unpleasantly under his breath as he snapped to change the song that was coming through the speakers, to something else with a heavier tempo to it. 

_One, two, three, who should I kill?_   
_Every motherfucker running up the hill_   
_One, two, three, what should I do?_   
_Get fucked up and fuck_ _up you_

_Pussy liquor_   
_Make_ _ya_ _sicker_   
_Pussy liquor_   
_Do it quicker_

Sansa’s ears were burning red for an entirely different reason as Petyr sang along, a smirk continuous at the corner of his mouth throughout it all. The car was speeding even more as they passed beyond the city limits, their surroundings became hillier, the tyres screeched loudly as he took every corner sharply as they sped through the countryside. 

Sansa was beyond ecstatic when Petyr finally switched off the engine, cutting off the loud music mid-lyrics as they finally arrived at his home, high up on a cliffside. Sansa had never entered inside his home before, but from where she was, she could already tell the view would be spectacular. 

Petyr reached over the handbrake between them, his fingers skimmed across the top of her thighs causing Sansa to gasp at his touch. It was unexpected, and alarming that he could feel her, it was impossible, no human should be able to touch her. His should’ve gone right through her. Petyr moved closer and he grunted with the effort, his hand changed directions and reached down beside her legs for his briefcase that had been resting by her feet. Sansa let out another sound, this time in relief at her silliness, he was only reaching for his bag. Not her. 

Petyr got out of the car and unlocked his front door, upon entering his home he left the front door wide open. Sansa watched him do it, but she was confused as to why he’d do such a thing, it was completely out of the norm for him. She never needed to worry about such things as walls or locks, angels could pass through anywhere and anything, but Petyr’s door left open like it was, was a clear invitation, if ever she saw one. 

Sansa was stood in the open doorway; she had a clear view of his home but the only thing she cared about was the wall opposite her. The wall was entirely made up of glass, making it one massive window; showcasing the view of the city down below in most extravagant fashion. It was just as beautiful as she knew it’d be, she was mesmerized.

Petyr was sitting on the couch with a tumbler of whiskey already in hand, and his fingers were doing a come-hither motion “no need to be shy, sweetling, come in.”

Sansa moved forward cautiously, “so you _can_ hear me” and she turned around gasping when the door behind her slammed shut by itself, locking them in.

“Hear you, see you, all that jazz...” Petyr waved his drink around for emphasis. “If you’ve come to save my immortal soul, you’re a little too late for that I’m afraid.” Petyr laughed mockingly.

“It’s never too late,” Sansa spoke passionately.

In the blink of an eye Petyr was standing before her, Sansa’s eyes widened in shock, she didn’t know how he had moved so fast.

Petyr was barely a hairs breath apart from her, and he sighed deeply and loudly. His voice honeyed, “So ... what’s your poison.” It wasn’t a question, and he clicked his tongue as he considered her, “I’m guessing you’re a Rosé girl. Here.” He suddenly held out the said drink in his other hand.

“How?” Sansa looked around concerned, something wasn’t right here. Her wings spread out from her back, a clear sign of her distress; they were big and white, the same shade of white as her dress.

“Now, now, put those away. There’s no need for that,” Petyr’s smile wasn’t very reassuring, and his eyes devoured her wings, looking his fill. “You’ll find no threats here, just a friendly drink,” Petyr waved the drink for her under her nose in an enticing manner.

Sansa retracted her wings before Petyr could have a chance to touch them, her hand reached for the glass though, but she held back before she could grasp a hold of it. Petyr’s smile grew, “there you go.” Sansa took it, and she tried to ignore the pleasant sensation of their fingers touching. “There you go.” He repeated it again when Sansa brought the bubbly to her lips, taking her first real sip of the human alcoholic beverage.

The alcohol had no effect on her, but she beamed at the tingly sensation of the bubbles hitting her tongue for the first time. Petyr walked away and Sansa followed him like a moth to the flame, his hand was surprisingly gentle at her lower back, Sansa allowed herself to be escorted. She sat down on his couch and he refilled her drink that she had devoured quite quickly.

When he sat beside her, he was close, a little too close for her comfort. His hand reached out and took a lock of her long thick red hair, he toyed with it between his fingers leisurely as he sipped at his whiskey.

“This isn’t possible,” Sansa shock her head in denial, “no human...” No human should be able to see her, never mind be able to touch her either.

“It’s simple, sweetling, I’m not human.”

Sansa shook her head again, still in deep denial, “that’s not possible. I’ve watched you your entire life. I’ve seen everything.”

Petyr’s smile was warm, but it held a hidden darkness to it, “I know you have... Just as I have been watching you.”

“But that can’t be” Sansa stopped talking when Petyr held a single finger up against her lips.

His breath caught in his throat at the real feel of her soft plush lips against his single digit. He wanted her, he desired her body, he wanted everything from her. “Petyr died,” he begun to explain, and the finger he held against her lips prevented her from interrupting him. “That nasty fight with Brandon over Catelyn killed him. He was just fifteen years old and sliced open, there was no surviving that.”

Sansa was shaking her head; she was getting more and more destressed as Petyr explained himself. “We both saw it, sweetling, you know that.”

“No,” the finger against her lips muffled her but Petyr could easily understand her.

“So, I took the opportunity and took his body for a chance to live.”

Sansa’s eyes shone with unshed tears; they both knew she was grieving for that young boy who had died long ago, under her watch. “How could you?” Sansa couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was barbaric, no angel of the lord would ever dare do such a disgusting thing, they would never steal a child’s body. Which just left her with the most logical conclusion. Demon. She was having a _‘friendly’_ drink with a demon.

“For the same reason you look remarkably like her,” Petyr, or whatever the demons real name was answered her.

“Who?” Her brow furrowed.

“Catelyn.” His fingers gave a tug of the lock of red hair he was still holding onto, “you hold a striking resemblance to her. Don’t you.” Petyr’s eyes darkened. Sansa had no answer for that one. “Of all the familiar faces to choose from, you went with the one that his body would’ve given his right arm for.” 

“What’s your name, demon.” Sansa demanded. 

Petyr smirked viciously towards her. There was the holier-than-thou attitude he was waiting for. “I’ll give you mine, if you give me yours.” Petyr was flippant, taking a big gulp finishing off the last of his whiskey. He let go of her hair in order to refill his drink, he didn’t bother with refilling hers any longer. 

When Petyr turned back to face her again, he softened his look to seem more approachable again. Petyr wiped at Sansa’s cheek, even though she had shed no tears, “Cheer up. No one mourned his loss.”

“How can you be so cold about this?” Sansa croaked, frowning at him in disappointment.

Petyr moved some of Sansa’s hair back, so he would have a better view of her neck, “I’m not. I’m just being realistic.”

“I hate it,” Sansa sniffed.

“I know, sweetling.” Petyr thought she could do with another drink now. He precured for her another glass, anything to bring back her beautiful smile again. 

“Come,” Petyr stood again, his hand was offered to her. 

Even after their conversation and finding out she had failed in saving her ward Sansa grasped his hand without hesitation, letting him help her up to her feet. Sansa took the bubbly alcohol too; she needed the distraction it offered. Sansa followed Petyr as she sipped her Rosé and they stood before the massive window.

There were only a few inches between them and a fifty-foot drop. Neither of them was afraid, they both admired the view of the valley below. The city stretched out further off in the distance, they saw planes flying overhead, heading to and from the airport. They looked so tiny, like flying black dots. Sansa thought most of them weren’t even moving at first. 

“Beautiful.” 

Sansa heard the reverence in Petyr’s voice, and Sansa agreed with him wholeheartedly, “It is,” misinterpreting his meaning.

Sansa gasped aloud, mostly from shock, when she felt Petyr was suddenly behind her, his hands encircling her waist, embracing her from behind. His breath was hot against her, his voice a delicious low rumble, “Want another drink?”

“I... shouldn’t.” Sansa hesitated when Petyr caressed her stomach and nuzzled her hair away from her neck.

Sansa dropped the empty glass at the first kiss he placed against the base of her neck but it never smashed, the glass vanished in the same fashion in which it had first appeared, without a trace.

“What are you doing?” Sansa’s voice cracked, she hoped he didn’t feel her quiver.

Petyr brushed some more of her hair away so he had more access, so he could see her profile, “Giving you what you want,” he blew gently against her ear, he smirked triumphantly when he felt Sansa quiver again, and lean heavily against him, her bum snuggling up nice and close to his erection. “You want me just as much as I want you.”

“No, I … let me go.” Sansa’s protests were weak, and they both knew it. Sansa wasn’t even pushing his hands away, she allowed for that one adventurous hand to move higher and grope one of her breasts.

“My poor, sweetling, you’ve been bored haven’t you.” The front of her dress was pulled down, exposing her breasts, he cupped one and left the other exposed. Petyr’s other hand was moving lower, getting dangerously low.

He was moments away from finding out just how much Sansa was invested in this dangerous rendezvous.

“I know you have,” Petyr kissed her again, Sansa bit into her lip to stop herself from letting out any noises, she refused to give Petyr the satisfaction of knowing how much she was enjoying this. “It’s why you’ve been following humans around, interfering.” Sansa felt his smirk against her skin. “Interfering is against the rules, love.”

“No!” Sansa came alive.

She struggled but Petyr refused to let her go anywhere his hold of her was firm, “Yearning, longing, jealously; are all sins for mortals.”

“I know,” Sansa was wondering where he was going with this.

“Crave, desire, burn, _ache_.”

Sansa closed her eyes as Petyr whispered each word against her ear, “you’ve succumbed to them all beautifully.” Petyr’s hand cupped her womanhood through the layers of her dress before she ever had a chance to protest. Her cry was of passion and surprise, but she still didn’t fight his hold as he continued to rub against where she was throbbing with want the most. 

Deep down she knew Petyr was right. Sansa knew it was against the rules to go down to earth to follow humans around. To interfere because she envied their choices. To grow feelings for them, to care. To yearn. To love. A part of her knew something was different about Petyr but it was that same difference that intrigued her, caused her heart to flutter, and caused her to follow him for all these years. Hoping for this very outcome. 

“Tell me you want me and I just might give you what you want,” Petyr’s lips were suspiciously close to her own now.

The bottom of Sansa’s dress ripped apart so Petyr’s hand could have easier access, and she cried out louder when he dipped his finger into her dripping core. “Tell me.”

Sansa shivered at Petyr’s darkened tone, she moaned and turned her head so she could see his eyes were even darker, but full of promise. “I want you,” she moaned, and she turned to face him, Petyr allowed it, he kissed her, devoured her, and Sansa’s wings wrapped around them protectively. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Rob Zombie


	7. the ones she had lost and the ones she had found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ties in with the 'How would you have ended Petyr and Sansa's story?' question: this is the third outcome. White-walker Petyr
> 
> Horror and gore warning for the squeamish

All the tiny hairs on Sansa’s body stood on end, she could usually sleep through the worst of storms in the dead of winter but her chamber was silent. Eerily so. She wasn’t alone.

She awoke how she had fallen asleep, on her side facing away from the door and towards the window. Her fight or flight instincts had kicked into gear but she knew if she moved even a fraction of an inch she was dead. Sansa didn’t know how she knew that to be a fact, she just knew somehow. She was scared, more scared than she’d ever been in her life, she wanted to scream, to run. Above all, she wanted to live, so she stayed laying there unmoving, controlling her breathing.

Someone was watching her; she could feel it. Feel eyes watching her. She fought her body's natural instinct to move, her limbs were straining under the pressure, her arms and legs locked stiff. Her heart was beating against her chest wildly. Every single pounding of her heart was thunderous, and painful. She wanted to clutch at her chest to stop the rising panic but she didn’t dare do so, for to move would mean her last. 

Sansa couldn’t hear the storm raging outside, the cold of winter made it impossible for her to see anything beyond the frosted glass. Her eyes widened in fright when she saw a glimpse of something unnatural reflected in the frosted panes, an unnatural blue light, it was small and disappeared within the blink of an eye but it was enough to make the idea of returning to sleep impossible now. 

She held her breath afraid to make even a single sound – that's when she heard it. A tiny faint gurgling sound.

The gurgling sounded exactly like someone was choking on water. It got louder and closer. 

She lay there for hours in terror, it was only when she heard movement beyond her door some distance down the hall, then the slight creak of her chamber door Sansa no longer felt someone watching her. She was still afraid though. She still refused to move in case they came back, but when the maids awoken and begun their morning duties Sansa exhaled a shaken breath. She was shaking to her very core but she had managed to survive this night. 

As the war against the Others drew ever closer the more everyone showed signs of stress and fear. Fights broke out, tempers were short but everyone persevered. 

The crypts weren’t a safe enough place for people to hide against an army of the undead so plans for those unable to fight would seek refuge in the cellars and dungeons below Winterfell. Sansa didn’t think anything else could scare her, not after that frightful night. She was wrong. And Sansa never did find out who it had been that had entered her room unannounced, or how they had managed to get through a locked door... 

Sansa had chosen one of the dungeons to seek shelter, she felt safer within them. Locked bars stood between her and the rest of the world. The key to freedom was in her hands, giving her the illusion of power. She was only to unlock the cell doors when they heard the signal for when it would be safe to do so. 

She rung the clunky keys in her hands as she listened to Tyrion, Missandei and Varys bicker to pass the time. Sansa just continued to ring the keys in her sacred shaking hands worriedly. The dragonglass dagger given to her by her sister felt heavy within the pocket of her heavy winter fur-lined coat. She had never used a weapon before, and feared if the time came to use it she’d be useless and forget how. 

Children were crying and screaming, mothers were burdened with the task of trying to bring comfort to their young while their husbands left them to fight, and most assuredly die. Sansa couldn’t do what her younger self had the courage to do, to distract everyone with song and prayer. She no longer found comfort in songs, and she didn’t have enough faith to pray. 

The inane chatting stopped at the first piercing cry from a dragon overhead. It had already begun, the fighting. Then the praying begun. Time lost all meaning after that. Sansa watched the candles and torches flickering. Fire, light, her only hope. The key in her possession, and the dragonglass dagger her sources of comfort. 

Days and nights blended into each other, there was no source of natural light so time was only made up of when they slept and when they got hungry. Days turned into weeks into months and people grew more and more hopeless. 

Swords continued to clash, people still screamed, and they all just sat there listening to them die day after day, night after night. 

Sansa was resting, in a light doze when she got alarmed as the screaming seemed close by. She sat up when people ran frightened for their lives, running past their cell doors towards the stairwell, towards the barricade that would lead up to the courtyard. Some of the women running past were yelling, “they’re coming, run for your lives!” In warning. 

The screaming worsened, sounds of massive struggles broke out, and mayhem. The people in the surrounding cells begun freaking out, the ones with Sansa begun pleading with her to unlock their cell door, but Sansa just sat there staring at nothing blankly.

Maybe she thought if she didn’t move again nothing would harm her, but in all honesty; she was just plain scared. 

They had forgotten about the under-crofts, the dead must have found them and found their way in. 

Hands rose from beneath the dirt below them. Scabby, peeling dirty bloody flesh dangled from most of the fingers of the wight that stopped and stood behind Varys. The grotesque hands wrapped around Varys throat. The wights had definitely found them.

The wight squeezed harder and caught him unawares, Varys futilely fight back without much luck. He thrashed, clawed and struggled about, he knocked into people in a panic before collapsing with the wight still holding on strong. Varys looked up at Sansa pleadingly, his hands desperately grabbing her feet in a plea to pry the thing off his throat.

The fingers against Varys’ throat tightened, pressed in and eventually tore at his flesh - spraying blood everywhere, and all over Sansa’s face.

People screamed louder within the cell, banging at the bars pleading to get out more desperately than before.

The blood bath snapped Sansa out of her frozen state of shock, and when the warm blood hit her, she screamed - her voice so loud it was the only thing she could hear.

She rushed to pry the keys through the bars, to open the doors, it was too late to save Varys. Someone tugged at her back urgently, pulling at her dress, Sansa worked and ignored the tugging as best she could. She worked harder, stretching, bending her arm unnaturally to reach around the bars, the muscles in her arms tearing at the pressure, but Sansa managed to turn the key and open the doors to freedom. 

Everyone tried running away all at once, it was mayhem trying to get past without getting hurt. Two separate sets of hands pulled at Sansa’s legs, at her ankles. The only thing keeping Sansa on her feet was her tight hold on the bars. This time her fighting instinct was more predominant than last time, she had no time for sympathy and kicked at whoever was trying to pull her to the ground. The kicking helped her free one leg and she felt someone’s face as she kicked back with her other foot. Once free she ran. 

More than a few times Sansa tripped losing her footing on the uneven ground, slim (what her mind chose to believe was slim but was blood and bodily organs) became thicker, but she pushed past and avoided looking in the other cells either side of her where the unlucky ones were locked in with more wights. 

Sansa neared the stairwell; women were working in a frenzy to break the barricade. A wave of wights rushed over them, turning the stairwell into a bloody death trap. The only way out now was the way the wights had gotten in. 

Missandei was trapped under a pile of bodies, there was so much blood she barely looked recognisable. A hand was reaching for one of the torches strung up upon the wall, Missandei and Sansa locked eyes from across the room.

Tears streaming red mixed in with the blood already covering Missandei’s face, her hand almost within reach of the torch - she mouthed _‘run’_ as a wight that looked like Sansa’s once personal handmaiden grabbed at Missandei’s stomach and tore her open.

Sansa turned her back on her, her only hope now was to find her way to the under crofts and find those tunnels. Sansa ran fast, faster than she ever had before. Rising heat licked at her back; giving Sansa another burst of speed. 

Adrenaline pumped through her veins, her limps straining under the pressure. Sansa never got a chance to cry out or scream when she suddenly found herself slamming face first into the ground. She barely had time to react and protect her face. The dirt floor was slimy and red. She pushed herself up to her forearms and the whole frontside of her was now covered in blood. 

There was a tugging at her ankles again and she turned with a pained groan to see Tyrion trying to reach for her. His eyes were an unnatural shade of bright blue, his eyes were luminance in the near darkness - just like the same thing she saw in the foggy glass on that fateful night some time ago. 

Sansa gasped in fright as she saw the lower half of Tyrion’s body missing; his organs spewing out and dragging behind him, his short stumpy fingers dug into her shin and before he had a chance grip and pierce her flesh Sansa kicked him in the face as hard as she could breaking teeth and flesh.

She scrambled to her feet and she grabbed the nearest torch within reach that lined both sides of the walls, and ran again. 

The fire was gaining behind her and Sansa was running out of dungeons - she was headed right towards a dead end. Any wight that tried getting near her, Sansa pointed her torch at them and lit them alight.

She slowed as she reached the end, there was just a massive wall in front of her, she panicked and looked for a way the they could’ve gotten in. There; at the far wall near the ground, a hole just big enough for a human to squeeze themselves in. 

Sansa didn’t want to go in there, but there was a wall of fire and wights behind her, she had no other choice.

She scrambled to her knees, she refused to give up her torch, it had helped her tremendously so far.

The tunnel was tight, she only had enough room to push forward with her arms but she persevered. The torch in front of her face provided her with a source to see how far she had yet to go.

She didn’t dare try to look behind her. Sansa pushed herself to the limit, she refused to get burned alive trying to escape in this tunnel. 

There was a faint light up ahead, about a few metres away, Sansa felt hope rise again within her chest. It was the end of the tunnel; she was sure of it.

She was almost there – she let out an ear shattering scream when something attacked her and tried tearing at her. Hands wrapped around her hair and dragged her out of the tunnel the rest of the way. Arms still grabbed at her and Sansa swished her torch out blindly trying to get the wight away from her.

The tip of a sword pierced through the wight and stopped only centimetres away from Sansa’s face. She froze as stared at the blade dripping with blood, she let out deep gulping breaths, frightened. 

Sansa crawled backwards trying to get away, she knocked the wights dead hands away from her as she did. The torch she had dropped in the struggle, she picked up and shone the light on the face of her attacker. Sansa cried out in pain when she saw the decaying face of her once baby brother Rickon, right before he turned into a frozen statue and shattered into a million tiny pieces.

“Lady Stark, quickly now” Jaime Lannister offered his hand to help Sansa to her feet, but before she had a chance to take it, he coughed up a mouthful of blood. Jaime choked, his eyes looking more shocked than hers.

Sansa didn’t know what to do.

Jaime looked down at his own chest to see another Valyrian steel sword pierced right through him; it was the sister sword to his own. Brienne was stood behind him, her arm outstretched – she retracted her sword and Jaime dropped to his knees then fell into the dirt unmoving.

Brienne was missing her left arm, and Podrick’s head was dangling from her waist; his hair caught within her belt and his eyes shining the same luminance blue as Brienne’s. Brienne was trailing blood behind her, it was still oozing from where her appendage once was, and she was walking on a dislocated leg and a thigh bone sticking out through her armour. 

The fire Missandei had started down in the dungeons had now reached the tunnel Sansa had just crawled out of, she rushed to her feet to run away, and to get away from Brienne but not before she saw the fire licking at Brienne’s ankles and started engulfing Jaime’s lifeless body. 

Her thighs ached; her whole body ached as she run through the lichyard. She tried finding an escape, but all the exits were blocked off by wights, the archers had their hands full trying to stop their momentum when all their blockades fell. Her only hope of escape now was through the castle.

Sansa just needed to make it the gallery. If she could make it to the gallery; she’d have a straight path to the covered bridge that’s connected to her father’s old solar which was connected to the tower where their bedchambers resided. From there she could make it out of Winterfell, but first she had to run through an ongoing battlefield. 

People were fighting off wights left and right, and all around her. The undead had breached the walls of Winterfell. Sansa recognised some of the fighters around her; Sandor, Gendry, Arya, Greyworm to name a few, but Sansa knew she wouldn’t be much help to them. So she ran, and ducked whenever a wight got too close. 

A screeching cry so loud halted all the fighting, everyone alive and dead all looked up to see dragons burning each other alive. Two were missing a wing or two. One had another by the throat and tore right through the flesh the other was engulfed in flames. Another pained cry pierced the air as it fell back to earth in a massive ball of flames. 

“Flee!” Someone on the other side of the walls shouted, but it was too late as the dying dragon engulfed and took them all with him. Sansa didn’t stop to watch and she made a mad dash for the gallery. 

The momentary halt to the fighting was enough of a distraction as some of the smarter people who chose the moment wisely to flee or escape. 

Wights were burning, running right through them; burning everything in their paths as they tried fleeing the fire Missandei had started down in the dungeons. Soldiers followed Sansa, and ran for in the same direction. As they ascended the staircase some got jumped by wights and didn’t make it. 

The gallery was empty and Sansa had a clear path to covered bridge, just as she stepped onto the bridge a wight jumped down in front of her from the rafters - causing Sansa to scream. Arya was close by; she had spotted her sister and had protected her back as they had fled together. She pulled out her catspaw dagger and stabbed the wight repeatedly until it shattered before them. 

More wights were closing in on them, both the sisters had the same idea to shut the heavy doors on them; to close off the bridge and stall them. The only problem, in order to close the doors, they had to pull them inwards, but they were heavy solid things.

Together they successfully closed one, both sisters pushing will all there might. They immediately worked on shutting the last one, but this one was more stubborn.

Both girls grunted under the exertion, they both were sweating.

“Go Sansa.” Arya stepped back and pushed Sansa through the doorway.

Sansa cried instantly, “No! Not without you!” Sansa choked on the tears she wanted to cry but didn’t; she couldn’t bear to lose her again.

“I’m sorry,” Arya was crying, it was the first time she had seen her sister do so.

“Why?” Sansa was in denial, even though she knew deep down why.

“I’m so sorry, Sansa.” Arya lifted part of her armoured plating to show she had been bleeding, and had been for some time.

 _“NOO!”_ Sansa’s entire throat hurt, she only stopped shouting when hoarseness in her throat was unbearable. The tears that wouldn’t come, came. Sansa wanted to hug Arya, and never let go but the fighting got closer and they didn't have much time left if they wanted to shut these doors for good. 

It broke both their hearts to do so, but together they managed to close the last door together as Sansa pulled and Arya pushed from the other side.

Once the doors were sealed shut Sansa punched the doors with closed fists as she cried against the grained wood. She only stopped as the heavy thuds collided against the heavy doors, wights were trying to break through.

The fire was spreading and getting closer, causing desperation. It was time to go even though Sansa wasn’t ready. 

Sansa wished she’d never entered the solar, it was quiet. It had once been her father’s but it had been taken over by Jon and Daenerys. The thick walls prevented her from hearing the war raging just outside and the same bone chilling ominous feeling washed over her. _Not again!_

Eyes were watching her. Silent, waiting for the right moment to grab her. 

There was a candle on the desk, it was lit and the wax was pooling onto the scattered papers that had been left on the desk. Sansa wanted to take it but she knew she’d withstand a better chance of making it out alive if she left in darkness.

The door separating the solar from the chamber tower was open, she held her breath afraid to even make that much sound in the deathly silence of the room.

She slowly stepped towards the doorway. She took another, and another. Each step slow, she paused after each one.

Her fingers grazed the door and she chose that moment to make her move - she turned and quickly swung the door closed. Sansa jumped in fright when something from inside the solar punched the door. She had been seconds away from death again. 

The halls of the tower were just as silent. Sansa was in complete darkness, but she knew her way around her childhood home like the back of her hand. She kept one hand on the wall as she slowly walked.

She was on high alert, every atom of her body ready and waiting for the slightest sound to indicate if she was in danger. She just had to make it up a flight of stairs and down two hallways until she was at her chamber door. 

Rationally she knew she should be heading downstairs to leave but she wanted to feel safe more than anything right now. She wanted to go to her chamber. 

_*tap tap*_

_*tap tap*_

It was faint but Sansa’s ears picked up the slight tapping sound of someone knocking their knuckles against the stone wall. Sansa froze, and leant against the wall heavily.

She didn’t move. She didn’t dare breathe.

Something was walking towards her. A wight stopped and turned to her. It had no smell, which was unusual for something that had been dead for months. 

Sansa’s hands were shaking uncontrollably but the long sleeves of her thick winter coat gave just enough cover for them, so it wouldn’t give her away.

Her throat felt like it was burning and her lungs felt like they were on fire, she needed oxygen desperately, immediately. Her eyes were watering. She didn’t dare look up though; she was too afraid It would notice her watery eyes, (and her blue eyes) and discover she wasn’t a wight. She was still covered in a layer of drying blood, her whole front was soaked in it, so she hoped it would help her appear more dead.

The wight turned away and walked on. It turned off down another hall.

Sansa could breathe again.

Sticking around wasn’t an option anymore, she rushed for the stairs and ran for her bedchambers. 

The door to her bed chambers closed with a silent click. She locked her door with the spare key hanging on the hook that she always left by the mantel.

Sansa closed her eyes and breathed deep to try and calm her shattered nerves. In, out, in out. The air in her room was cold, but all she felt was relief. She lit the candles sitting upon the heath, and she turned and looked upon her room. Her eyes rested upon her bed. It was working, seeing where she slept was helping. 

Then she remembered the blood she was covered in. Her hands desperately pulled at her coat. But layer after layer there was more and more blood staining her. Infecting her.

Even her dress was soaked with it, and Sansa tugged and ripped at it all until she was just down to just her shift and underclothes.

Her body ached. Her heart ached.

She sat upon her bed, there was blood upon her hands and even in her hair. 

She broke down.

Sansa only allowed herself a moment to break down before rational thought returned – she needed to clean herself up, dress warm, gather what few supplies she could carry and leave for good. She was running out of time like this. The more time she wasted indulging in her sorrow the more time the fire was given to catch up to her. 

She stood ready to head to her washroom to clean herself up when the sound of someone chocking on water came from the darkness of her bedchamber. 

_“g-_ _ak_ _”_

Sansa gasped in fright and froze like a statue again. The choking sound was back, it got louder.

 _No!_ She wanted to cry.

When she heard footsteps though, Sansa knelt down desperately searching for the dragonglass dagger she’d forgotten she’d left within the lining of her winter coat. 

The moment she had a hold of the handle she wielded it in front of herself like a sword protectively and locked eyes with those of Littlefinger’s luminous ice-blue eyes as he stepped out from the darkened corner he’d been standing in, and into the candlelight. Sansa saw the tear tracks still upon his cheeks. 

“Don’t come any closer, Littlefinger.” Sansa’s voice was authoritative even though her shaking hands gave away her true fright.

“Gak, g-ar-ak” Littlefinger’s mouth was moving like he was trying to speak, but all that came out was more gurgling, choking sounds. He was still choking on his blood.

His neck was still sliced open, and some more blood oozed out of the wound. His whole front shone wet from all the blood that had pooled down from his neck. His outfit hadn’t changed, he was wearing what he’d been executed in. Sansa gulped audibly. His bloody hands raised; like he was reaching out for her, and his hands were stained with the same dark substance. Sansa remembered how he’d reached for his neck to futility stop the bleeding as he died. 

“Stay right there, Lord Baelish.” Sansa shrilled, demanded.

Petyr kept walking towards her.

“Lord Baelish, stop!” But he wouldn’t listen to her orders, he kept crossing the room towards her, he was getting closer and closer with his hands still stretched out. 

_“Petyr!”_ Sansa shouted. 

Petyr finally halted, tilting his head. Giving Sansa the opportunity to get back to her feet.

“Petyr?” Sansa repeated questioningly, brittlely.

Petyr dropped his hands to his sides.

“Petyr” Sansa whispered again.

She felt encouraged to approach him. She kept repeating his name, because that seemed the only thing that calmed him and she closed the last remaining gap between them cautiously. 

Tears pooled in her eyes again, _“Petyr”_ she whispered and she cupped his face in her hands. She still kept a hold of the dagger though. Her fingers caressed his icy cheeks. He felt cold to the touch, like she was holding a block of ice, but the cold didn’t bother her. 

His mockingbird pin was unrecognisable, the blood caked over it like the rest of him but she could feel it under her hand, the one still holding onto the dagger.

His hands reached for her. She shivered as he grasped her waist.

“Petyr.” Sansa kept repeating, “Petyr” she couldn’t stop saying his name. She feared if she did the spell would be broken.

His hand cupped her breast suddenly.

Sansa gasped in surprise, then she repeated his name to make sure he remained calm. 

Heat was rapidly rising beneath their feet, drastically rising the temperature in the room. The flooring was beginning to turn red as the heat intensified. 

Sky-blue eyes were still looking into the luminous ice-blue eyes staring back at her.

The hand covering her breast moved slightly, pressed, and pushed its way through flesh, breaking through bones. _“Petyr”_ Sansa coughed out, she felt blood rising up her throat, but still she refused to look away from him even as she clutched him tighter and her eyes widened in fright. Petyr’s hand kept reaching in, searching, and came to a stop when he finally cupped her heart within his hand and felt its last pump. 

The dragonglass dagger in Sansa’s hand stabbed through his chest, the tip of the dagger piercing his heart. _“gak”_ Petyr chokingly tried to speak again, one final time before his whole body begun slowing. He slowly begun turning to ice. 

Petyr’s eyes never strayed from Sansa’s, even as the ice reached all of his extremities, as everything turned black and fuzzy, he saw Sansa’s eyes turn from her usual sky-blue into ice-blue. 

Sansa still wouldn’t look away from Petyr even as he begun shattering into a million tiny pieces. His hand was still holding her heart, his hand was the last part of him to shatter, as his hand started breaking a part, he took with him her heart. Both shattering together as the rest of her body followed suit. 


	8. Vengeance is easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: vengeance is easy, forgiveness is.... 

Lord and Lady Baelish had been on the road for many weeks, travelling from their home at Harrenhal and had made a stop along the way at the eyrie. It was theirs by right after Lord Arryn and Lord Hardyng tragically passed away. They were on their way to visit Lord and Lady Stark at Winterfell and were stopped off at a tavern just over a day's ride away. The candles were lit, the fire was roaring and the bedding had just been turned down for the night. 

“Any more of those delicious yellow apples left?” Sansa asked as she reclined herself across the bed as enticingly as she could in her condition.

Petyr was beginning to make himself comfortable by removing his riding cloak and stood back up, “Again?” He cocked his head and smiled to himself as he saw her lovingly caress their growing child.

“Yes. We want apples.” She raised her head up defiantly. The mildness of them, and the sweetness of those apples were just pleasant enough on her gentle stomach.

“Then anything you both want, you shall receive,” he presented the treat from behind his back.

“Yay!” Sansa laughed, and clapped her hands happily.

Their whole trip she'd had cravings for nothing but apples, and Petyr the ever-diligent husband – always made sure to procure them for her wherever they happened to be. “Uh,” he pulled his hand back just out of reach when Sansa went to snatch it from him. “Uh-ah,” and again a second time.

Sansa sat back, crossed her arms and pouted mock-angrily. “You shouldn’t tease your poor hungry wife, dear husband.”

Petyr suppressed his laughter, yet he feared his smile remained, showing how amused he was. He knelt on the bed beside her and placed a kiss to the apple before placing it delicately in her hand. “Hungry you may be, but poor you are surely not,” he kissed her cheek, “wife.” He whispered right against her ear, bestowing another kiss there. Sansa’s smile to him was devilish, and her first bite of the apple was upon the spot he had just kissed. 

Sansa munched on her apple quite contently while he finished undressing. The core was tossed away and Petyr grasped her wrist and licked the juices from her fingers. Sansa’s laughter was light and airy, “that tickles!” The fine hairs of his moustache and goatee always managed to get a reaction from her.

“Does it?” He didn’t even bother to look remorseful, “Pity.” Instead of stopping like she thought he would, he instead found more places to kiss and lick, to receive even more of her laughter.

“Stop. Stop, that tickles!” She continued to laugh.

Her shift was pulled up exposing her stomach, and Petyr showed his devotion when he felt their child kick against him in protest. “Such a small thing,” he spoke in wonderment. Her baby bump wasn’t very big, but the child was growing fast.

“But very strong,” Sansa’s laughter stopped and she smiled down at her husband. Petyr moved up the bed, pulling her into his embrace, she moaned before he bestowed the first kiss. 

Love didn’t come easy for her, in her marriage, but one thing she had learned; love could grow from affection, and she had a deep affection for her lord protector. It took a lot of time and effort to have contentment in their marriage, it wasn’t an easy journey. She could admit to herself she was reluctant of the match at first, but Petyr’s affections towards her went a long way to gain hers. 

Soon they would be in Winterfell, her ancestral home and amongst family, Sansa worried things were about to drastically change. She was no fool, she knew her husband had plans and schemes for any eventuality. But he had no knowledge of how to predict her family’s actions, and that made him fearful. And when Littlefinger was afraid, bad things were sure to follow. 

The first few weeks were mostly uneventful, Petyr was most gracious with their hosts, Sansa was blooming being amongst her family again. Not even the strange comment from her brother Brandon could sour her mood, _“Believe what she writes, for I have seen it to be true.”_ It was the first time Sansa could remember when she and Arya were getting along so well, both were heavily pregnant and exchanging plights. Petyr observed them from a distance to admire his wife’s beauty. 

The letter when it was found was in amongst many back letters left unattended and unread for so long, one was addressed to Sansa Stark from Cersei Lannister; from her confinement before she had been executed long ago. It had been years since Sansa had thought on the dowager queen, and with a trembling hand she read Cersei’s last words to her. It was nothing nice, Sansa expected no less from the cold-hearted woman, but what she wrote horrified her and shocked her to her very foundation. Cersei wrote in great a many detail of Littlefinger’s deep involvements, and actions which all lead to her late-father's beheading, and by the time she finished reading through all the pages they were already soaked with her distraught tears. 

Lord Baelish was immediately placed under house arrest, and was confined to his quarters until such a time Lady Baelish knew what to do with him. With the promise from her family nothing would be done to him in her absence she sought solitude. That had been over many weeks ago where Sansa locked herself in another room, in another tower far away from the voices demanding her husband's head. As her family put it; a fitting punishment for the man who helped caused their fathers beheading. She needed time to think, she needed time to grieve. 

There was no denying what he’d done, it was written plainly for all to see, Sansa raged most days trying to come to terms with the monster and the sweet man she had come to marry. She wanted to see him receive a swift death, but her anger faded fast when she felt their unborn child kick and move in protest. The weeks she spent in confinement she sat upon the window and looked down upon the grounds of her childhood. It wasn’t the same, she wasn’t the same. Everyday her maids came in to clean her rooms, receive her meals, and everyday Sansa would sit and stare out her window. 

On the last day of her confinement Sansa got a visitor, Arya waddled in, her eyes sympathetic to her sister plight. “Have you decided?” She spoke barely above a whisper.

Sansa turned to her, and a single tear fell down her cheek. “Yes.” 

***

Petyr stood up straight the moment he heard the door to his chambers - now prison - were unlocked. He ran a hand down his rumpled coat, trying hopelessly to remove the creases. He was expecting his executioner to open the door and was taken by surprise when his lady wife Sansa entered in alone.

“Sansa” he all but ran to her embracing her, she stood stiffly within his arms which didn’t pass his notice. “Sansa, my love,” he grasped her face trying desperately to get her to look at him.

“You must talk to them on my behalf,” he was still despaired she would not look at him. “Will you not help me?” He did all he could just short of shaking her. Petyr’s eyes filled with tears, “Will you not speak to me.”

He wasn’t above begging, and he lowered himself to his knees, his hands cupping their unborn child and he gently rested his forehead there. “Please speak to me, Sansa.”

Sansa coughed before she finally found her voice. “Do you know your offences?”

“Yes, something about helping behead your lord father but,”

Sansa finally looked him in the eye, she looked cold but her eyes were still misty-eyed. “Do you deny your involvement?”

Petyr scoffed, upset she would even ask him that. He looked for the love he once saw in her eyes, his own eyes pleading with her. When they softened, he finally saw the depth of her sorrow, breaking his heart. He gulped audibly, damning himself, “Of course.”

From within the fold of her dress she revealed to him the letter from the late dowager queen for him to read. His eyes moved fast; fingers moved pages at a rapid rate as he read over them quickly. When he was finished his fingers released the pages letting them float away onto the floor devastated, “My lady, you more than anyone know what it was like in King’s Landing, please you must...”

Sansa winced, and closed her eyes so she wouldn’t cry in front of him, she held up her hand to prevent him from talking.

“Sansa, surely you don’t...” His voice trailed off when she refused him.

It took her some time to gather her strength, but when she opened her eyes again, she felt stronger. “A hearing was called last night upon your case.” She held her hand up again when he sought to voice his protest. “You were found guilty, with one against.” She meant herself, but refused to tell him so. “You...”

She struggled to speak, “You have been pardoned, Lord Baelish.”

Petyr blinked confusedly, and he rose unsteadily to his feet. His mouth opened and closed many times as he was unable to fully grasp what it meant.

“From this day forth you’ll live out your remaining days in your ancestral home, you will be under heavy guard and will be prevented from seeking outside audiences.”

Petyr lowered his head clucking his tongue, and when his eyes met hers, she briefly saw Littlefinger. “So, I am to be abandoned to The Fingers.”

“Yes.” Sansa snapped, looking just as hard as her husband. “I fought for you, so you will be thankful.”

She stepped forward so they were eye to eye, “The lord’s wanted your head and for our marriage to be annulled, they were going to strip you of your name and titles, and our child...” Her hands caressed her child, she sought to comfort her child, and bring comfort to herself.

“Our child deserves more than becoming a bastard. With this pardon our child can still inherit our lands when it comes of age, regardless of its sex.” Her eyes lost most of its hardness, “and so I don’t have to beg my family for a place to live like some pauper.”

Tears formed in Petyr’s eyes, and his hands shook as he tried to reach out for their child, but he stopped himself at the last moment. “I never meant...” He bowed his head in shame.

Sansa lowered her eyes, “I know, my lord.”

His hand rested against their child, “Please forgive me?” The tears he fought so hard to stop fell down his cheeks. “For the love you once bared me, and for the love of our unborn child, I beg you, please?”

“I forgave you a long time ago, my lord.”

She stepped back heading for the chamber doors, she was about to knock to let the guards know to let her out but Petyr tugged on her until she faced him again, he begged on his knees again and hugged their child beseechingly, “please, Sansa, don’t do this. Don’t send me away from your side.” He kissed where he felt his child kick at him. “I want to see my child grow into this world, don’t abandon me.”

Sansa kissed the top of his head; he never heard her knock on the chamber doors. “Your sins are forgiven, lord husband, now be at peace.” She tried stepping back but when Petyr grabbed for her again the guards held him back, she kept walking away and finally allowed a few tears to escape, even as he kept calling out for her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments always welcomed


End file.
